The Journey
by QueenOfTheEra
Summary: Will hopefully become a series of one shots revolving around moments throughout episodes 1-5 and beyond. (Smut to follow)
1. Chapter 1

Toe tapping and fidgeting with the delicate skirt of her floral dress, Molly Dawes was a nervy sight as her train pulled into Bath Spa. As she stood opposite the train doors, waiting for them to part, Molly caught sight of herself in the glass and almost did a double take.

Stepping off the carriage, careful not to snag her hem with the spikes on the godforsaken contraptions she'd wrestled herself into, Molly found to her surprise and delight that she didn't feel out of place. If anything, she felt better than ever and it wasn't just the stilettos making her walk taller. _Bossman won't know what to make of this, _Molly thought, _and he'd better bloody appreciate it. _

It'd been weeks since she'd seen him, bedded down with wires in Birmingham, forlorn yet still fiery and strong to the core in a way that was so him, _hers_. After swapping details, they'd chatted on the phone, emailed constantly and texted each other incessantly.

Every time Molly saw a new message from the Captain, her face would break out into a smile so big and bright. It wasn't surprising then that her Nan had cottoned on. But just like everyone else, she also easily assumed it was a canny mouthed Welshman that was bringing out the sunshine in her granddaughters eyes. _If only they all knew._

The whole journey down, Molly could barely contain herself. Rereading his messages, she had to hold in a burst of laughter when she came to the one he'd sent her a couple of days previous.

Bossman had been teasing her; he wouldn't let slip his given name. So they'd played a guessing game, where Molly had fired off every poncey, privately educated name she could think of. Henry, William, Percy, Edward and in a moment of sheer desperation, even bloody Cosmo. Captain James had laughed so hard when she'd guessed that one, asking her in a disapproving voice how on earth she could be so cruel. Smiling down the phone, Molly had defensively confessed that she only knew it from watching Bridget Jones. He had laughed heartily and grudgingly divulged that he actually went to Eton with somebody cursed with the unfortunate name, before stating that he'd take great delight in introducing them at his next reunion.

That simple all too easy reference to their future had made her worryingly warm all over. Just him uttering that word, their, made her ridiculously happy. Not that she'd go and admit that to him. Molly had brushed the comment off, telling him he'd have to pay her to go to that toffee nosed hell hole, then adding that it couldn't be that bad if he'd gone there.

It was the way they were it seemed, him making easy references to the future and her trying to shrug it off as if his words didn't affect her. After all, he hardly knew her, she kept telling herself. On tour, they were both in uniform. In Afghan they'd both had a purpose and a duty, but back home things would be different, maybe even awkward.

Wouldn't they?

At the end of the day, he'd gone to school at fucking Eton, whilst she'd barely gone anywhere. Bossman was used to posh ways, been brought up in a posh old house and got used to, Molly was sure, posh women. And her? Well she'd only ever heard the name Cosmo from a romcom.

But even Molly couldn't deny that the chemistry that'd always been present in Afghan was still there. She could tell from his flirting down the phone.

It was obvious that the Captain was eager, and every time they spoke they learned more about each other. They were both taking the time to appreciate the little things; taking advantage of the fact that they didn't have to wait out anymore.

Molly was pretty sure he was as anxious as she was. It wasn't a bad anxious, not like when she'd first spoken to him after he'd come round in hospital. No. Not like that.

They hadn't spoken about their first, and so far only, kiss they'd shared. Although, Molly was sure that it was to be the first of many. Just thinking of it made her ache. _Jesus_. Molly had most definitely replayed it over and over, and more than a couple of times she'd felt her cheeks flush bright through the remnants of her Afghan induced tan and sometimes if she fought hard enough against the terrors that teased her mind, she swore she could feel his strong hands cradling her face ever so gently.

Laying in her bunk night after night, whispers of the moment they'd shared were the only thing keeping her from going absolutely barmy - what with all the thoughts that had her mind running away with itself. The echoes of Bashira's sweet, searching voice being muffled and then silenced by the sharp shock of gunfire. Many a night Molly often slammed open her eyes to the deadly sound that reverberated round and round her head, trying to beckon dreams of Captain James; clinging to her only shred of comfort.

But now, walking through the pretty streets of the most perfect place she'd ever seen, Molly felt a different nervousness from the gut wrenching knots that kept her awake. This time, she admitted to herself whilst unwillingly giving into a girlish sigh, the only thing turning her stomach were the swarms of butterflies that just wouldn't stay put. _Bossman butterflies_ she thought, resisting the urge to roll her carefully made up eyes.

All of their conversations had possessed an undertone, and she wasn't surprised in the least when he'd invited her down to Bath so soon. They both needed to see each other badly. Captain James had asked her out for dinner, she'd saved the address on her phone and practically memorised the route. She just knew it'd be someplace fancy knowing him.

Molly could hardly believe it, smiling to herself in more than a bit of disbelief. Here she was in bloody Bath, with Bossman taking her to dinner. Surreal didn't cover it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer! These characters aren't mine, though I wish CJames was! ;)**

Mellow morning light streamed through the tall windows, landing on the smiling curves of her face.

She burrowed deeper into the planes of his chest, images and sounds from last night drifting in and out of her mind, dancing behind her eyelids.

He'd taken her with a tenderness that she'd thought of as fiction before. It had been steady and romantic and everything she'd never known and hoped to always have from now on. The fumbling, straight to the point boys that she'd been with prior hadn't a patch on him.

His honeyed tones had triggered her release. She'd come hard with his voice in her ear, telling her how much he loved her, how he had imagined this for so long. _Too long._

And after he stilled moments later, Molly had held onto him so tight, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes as he stroked back her damp hair, kissing her forehead reverently. Happy tears born from the realisation that he was alive and strong and here with her, flesh and bone.

Shifting, halfway between blissful sleep and consciousness, Molly revelled in the slight soreness from where his hands had gripped, pushed and pulled the second time.

_The second time_. Molly had to hold back a moan at the memory.

It had been fast and rough and tempered by a need to never let go. Whilst he had taken the lead the first time, by the second Molly was bolder, scraping her nails down his taut back, forcing him to thrust harder and deeper with every swift stroke, her insistent hands travelling of their own mind to encourage his firm backside from where she writhed beneath him.

Guiding him, showing him she wouldn't break, she'd come quickly. Her head tossed back, digging into the pillow with his demanding mouth clamped onto the soft slope where her neck and shoulder met, muffling the sound of her name spilling from his lips in hoarse, satisfied moans as he joined her ascent.

_How the hell had it all happened?_ Things like this didn't happen to girls like her.

She had been joking when she'd suggested that she thought she'd be waking up in a Travelodge. Bossman…no, _Charles_, didn't exactly seem like the type for a quick fumble in a budget hotel.

But, if it had turned out that way, she wouldn't have had much reason to be disappointed; her previous dealings had done little to develop high expectations when it came to being wined and dined. A trip to the chippy on Long Lane after a pint in the pub was more like it.

"What's put that smile on your face then?"

Keeping her eyes shut, Molly smiled wider. She'd heard Boss' voice in many settings. She'd heard it when he was tenderly telling her how he felt in Afghan, angrily instructing her away from an explosive riddled Bashira, or authoritatively ordering around the boys at Bastion.

But by far, his husky morning timbre beat them all by an absolute mile. _Definitely_.

Her head turned up from where it lay upon his humming heart, the steady rhythm that had lulled her to sleep in the small hours. It was the first good night she'd had in ages.

Opening bleary eyes, Molly was met with his knowing grin.

"Oh, nothing," she smirked bashfully in reply. The way he was studying her face made her want to do nothing more than bask in this feeling every morning.

If she wasn't so head over heels for him, she could've hit herself for being so fucking sappy.

Charles' eyes possessed a playful glint, roaming over her cheeky face. She looked satisfied, he thought to himself happily, not even bothering to disguise his smugness.

"Excuse me, less of the bloody smirk….Charles," Molly teased, her Cockney accent taking on a haughty tone as it wrapped itself around the new name.

He picked up his arm from where it lay snug round her shoulders and deftly tucked her hair behind her ear. Smiling, he leaned down, rubbing his nose alongside hers.

The simple action elicited a soft sigh from her lips, still swollen and cherry red from before.

"I'm really happy, you know," she murmured, lowering her chin to his chest.

"Ditto," he winked, sliding further down the pillows and taking her in his arms.

**Thank you for reading and for all your faves, reviews and follows! This is my first stab at writing anything remotely creative in a few years (too many uni essays) so I really appreciate any feedback! I know this was short but more to come soon! XO **


	3. Chapter 3

The cup that held the coffee was delicate and decorated with a pretty print. Not anything like the plain, made for purpose mugs they used at home, ones that were used to being slammed down, knocked about and chipped. _No._

Her fingers had to curve into the well-crafted slope of the handle and it felt a bit unnatural. But it was nice, she had to admit, the feel of her fingers resting against the porcelain's dewy glaze.

It was the little things.

The fact that the shirt she was wearing-his shirt- had a little label with a load of gibberish on it. Italian he'd told her, as if reading her mind. _Italian._ And although she couldn't make much sense of it, she'd bet anything it didn't read non-crease or easy iron.

The fact that the house he grew up in had its own staircase and a bloody grand one at that. It wound itself up multiple flights, not including the basement and the attic that the Boss said he'd show her some time.

The fact that his bed was big enough for her whole family to kip in. Or for him to roll her around any which way he wanted. Not a bunk bed just snug enough for one.

It was different, Molly decided. But it didn't seem to matter- wasn't a big fucking elephant in the room. Not with him. The differences just melted away.

It was just…_easy._

Today he was going to give her the grand tour, so he said. _Bloody grand indeed_ she'd thought when he'd announced his plans for the day and handed her a cup of Rosabaya.

Molly looked towards the nightstand. From her place on the edge of the bed, she could easily see the fluorescent flash of her phone screen, signalling she'd got a new text.

10.25am. Mum.

Molly had quickly messaged her last night, telling her not to worry and that she was staying with a friend.

The response had been almost instant, instructing her to be safe and to have a good time.

Pulling up the new message, Molly sighed.

'Just checking you're alright Love. Say Hello to Smurf.'

If that wasn't enough, her Mum had punctuated the assumption with a wink.

_A bloody wink. _

"What's the sigh for?"

Turning, Molly saw that Charles was off the phone and leaning on the doorframe like he owned the place. Technically, he did. _Nice place too._

"Just Mum."

He sent her a small smile. She'd looked beautiful against the backdrop of the desert, but nothing beat the way she looked this morning. Rumpled yet refreshed, at home in his bed.

"She wondering where you are?" He didn't know many details about her family, but it was clear she was close with her Mum.

Molly didn't want to bring up that her Mum thought she was holed up somewhere with Smurf; she wanted to preserve the moment and keep it for herself. Just easiness. Just the two of them enjoying each other. _No drama._

"Yeah. Probably worried I've sacked in the army to become a brass," she shot back, deflecting.

Charles laughed, bright eyes shining and Molly unfolded her limbs. She made her way towards him. Magnetic, that's what he was. _Chemistry without a doubt._

She stood in front of him now, one hand grasping the cup, careful not to drop it on the cream carpet. _God forbid. _Her other hand rested comfortably over his shirt, fingers playing with the buttons, soldiers lined up in a perfect row.

"You never know," Molly looked up at the teasing lilt of his voice. "You could probably charge more, what with your Military Cross."

And then he had the cheek to wink. _Smug prick._

The buttons protested weakly against her palm.

"Excuse me! Less of the hitting, please." The Captain didn't flinch, not one bit.

"Well I can hardly kick a bleedin' invalid, now can I?"

His head was slanted back, eyes tucking in tenderly at the edges. Molly completely loved that sound. His laugh, all carefree and relaxed.

Dropping his chin down and raising his eyes, Charles smirked and her breath caught. She'd have to get that under control she decided. His arsenal of expressions seemed to be making her more breathless than the Afghan heat.

"No," he murmured lowly whilst cajoling a strand of her hair round his finger, eyes roving her face. "But you didn't mind practically paralysing me last night."

Swallowing, Molly held onto the mug tighter, restraining herself. She'd have to tie her hands down, what with all the things they wanted to do, places they wanted to wander.

"I think you've got things muddled. Any after effects from last night would be self inflicted."

"Is that right, Molly?"

He leaned down, giving her a short, fleeting kiss – eyes open and intimate.

"Who's the medic here?" she teased as he pulled away. Her brow raised in mock strop.

"Well," Charles said whilst curving an arm round her, fisting his hand into the fabric of his shirt that hugged her waist. "I guess I'll just have to kidnap you, keep you here to nurse me back to health. Since you're such a good medic."

Giggling (a foreign sound she seemed to be making a lot around him) and warmed all over by his attention, Molly raised her eyes and smiled up at him cheekily. An imp in her Captain's clothing. Her dimple flashed under the raised apple of her cheek.

"Guess so, Sir."

**Another shortish filler, more plot to come by the end of the week! Thanks again for all the views, follows, faves and the lovely feedback! xo**


	4. An Update

No, not a new chapter (annoying of me I know). Apologies for being away from this story for so long, it seems like forever.

Thank you for all of the reads, reviews, follows and faves. Hopefully some of you are still interested and will be happy to know that I'll be updating

this upcoming week. I was occupied with uni for a long time and lost my love of creative writing but I've graduated now and am ready to write

for fun again (hopefully you'll enjoy the stories floating round my head). It isn't going to be a full-blown multi-chapter story...still just a series of one shots but

hopefully it'll be a nice continuation of what we didn't get so see of Molly and Charles.

So keep your eyes peeled this week for an update! And in the meantime, check out the first chapter of my first ever Bella/Edward story _The C Word._

Lots of love and thank you for the patience!

XO


	5. Chapter 4

_Thank you so much for all your reads, for the comments etc. It's been great seeing the response after so long away._

_Here it is, just skating in before Monday morning. A bit heavier than usual but I'd always wondered about Charles and his first marriage, so here goes. Things will be lighter next time, promise. _

_Hope you enjoy! And as per usual I don't own the characters, only an avid imagination. _

**The Journey - Chapter 4**

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Not only was his parent's house huge, but it also had one of the best views in Bath. From up on their roof terrace, you could see down over the sweeping expanse of the Royal Crescent's lawns. Then, to the right, your eyes could take comfort in the sight of the buttery Bath stone that made up a row of houses; look straight ahead and you could appreciate the lush green of the trees and countryside beyond. It was beyond dreamy, Molly thought.

Charles had wanted to show her something. Molly had made some innuendo about having already seen what he had to offer, which made him launch himself at her, fingers prodding at her ribs, releasing a bout of jolting laughter so pure and unbound it made him melt.

'Seriously, you need to see this. Grab that bottle and follow me,' he'd said, gesturing to some ice-cold champagne that Molly imagined was just one of many that were stored in the wine cellar.

He'd been stubborn, of course, and had refused to hold onto her as they made it up the steep stairs and out onto the roof. She'd watched as he'd hoisted himself up, one stair at a time, the exertion making the muscles of his forearms flex taut under his tan skin. The view of Bath just about trumped that one.

They'd just sat themselves down, fitted their bodies against the sloping angle of the warm slate, when there was a commotion from down below. Molly peered towards the lawn, shielding her eyes from the white sunlight that seemed to be so much purer in Bath, not hazy and dimmed by pollution like back home in London. On the lawn below, a bride and groom in full wedding garb stood for pictures, around them, people Molly assumed to be guests threw confetti, cheering when the pair kissed for the camera that clicked away, capturing their effervescence.

Without thinking, Molly said the first thing that came to her head: 'Bet you had a big wedding,' she smiled shyly, trying to convey that it was alright, he could talk with her about these things.

Charles inclined his head slightly, looking down at her face for a second as if to gage the truth behind her statement. He seemed to find whatever he was looking for in her open face and sighed.

'Yeah, her parents went all out,' he said with a wry movement of his lips that was more of a grimace than anything else.

'You can say _her_ name you know. I'm a big girl,' Molly rolled her eyes, he was acting as if she was some weak, jealous girl, not a woman who was used to warfare. And besides, she was intrigued, apart from that time in hospital after _everything_, they hadn't made any further reference to his marriage. 'Anyway, you were saying, it was _beyond_ massive.'

'Well beyond massive is subjective,' Charles laughed, picking at a piece of invisible dust on his jeans, distracting himself from the memories of his own wedding day all those years ago. 'It was big in a traditional way. It was rushed, to be honest,' he said bluntly.

Molly couldn't quite understand this, for some reason she'd conjured up some perfect union between him and his ex, a golden day ripped from the pages of some fancy wedding magazine. Because although she knew it had ended badly, she assumed things had started off well, that they'd been in love. So, his lacklustre tone when describing his nuptials didn't quite fit with how she'd always imagined them in her darkest moments.

'Why was it rushed?' she asked.

'Well she'd found out…' he said, his voice trailing off at the end, leaving her to figure out the rest.

'Oh,' she said, genuinely surprised. There was only one reason that she knew people got married in such a hurry for. She didn't know how long he'd been married, but she'd assumed he'd done things the proper way: first comes marriage and all that. Molly had come to this conclusion due to how proper he seemed, he was a proper, traditional, country boy. But as she continued to discover, he was anything but predictable in so many ways.

'Yeah, it was a bit of a mess altogether really. We'd been out for a few years, went to neighbouring boarding schools, had met at school dances and the like, you know?' he stated this all in a matter of fact way, as if he'd shut this part of his life away in a drawer at the back of his brain.

Molly didn't know what he meant by boarding schools or school dances, the realities were far removed from her own life, but she hummed as if she did. She'd never been to a dance at school, although she expected it couldn't be much different to a disco. And although his might've been in beamed halls whilst hers were pitiful, sticky floored affairs hosted in the school gym, she was sure that surging teenage hormones and a covert stash of alcohol were common dominators that crossed all classes.

'Anyway, she went off to Uni in Scotland, whilst I went off to Sandhurst. We tried the long-distance thing, it didn't work. So, it just… fizzled out. Except, we saw each other at a friend's wedding, one thing led to another and two months later she rang me with the news, told me she was pregnant,' he took a sip of champagne straight from the bottle, remembering. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand decisively. 'It was a shock to say the least.'

Molly weighed this new information. His relationship with Rebecca seemingly wasn't the typical fairy-tale she'd conjured up, the same one that had kept her awake for nights on end as soon as she'd found out that he had a wife at all. It had tormented her, thoughts of his perfect Missus back home, waiting for him to return from Afghan, all tan and glorious.

'So, you didn't want to get married then?' she broached, intrigued.

'I came around to it, got excited even, I wanted to make us a proper family, do the _right thing_. I decided if we were going to do it then we'd do it properly, make a real go of it, for the sake of the baby. I was in it for keeps, for better or worse. Looking back on it now, I can see those vows were more than a bit…hollow,' he paused, closed his eyes as if overcome by the realisation that his life had actually panned out this way. 'And when the baby-when _Sam_ was born, I was so happy, didn't think life could get better. I thought things were fine, I was just kidding myself really.'

'What do you mean?'

'Being on tour gives you a far-away view of things, a bird's eye perspective. On the outside, everything had been going fine for years: I had a wife, a little boy, was making leaps and bounds and rising up the ranks like I was supposed to. Everything was how it should be, all lined up nicely. Until it wasn't. It all kicked off a couple tours ago, when I returned only to find that things weren't right at home, not even close,' he scoffed.

Molly could sense his internal struggle, took in the way that his brow furrowed. Instinctually, she grabbed for his right hand, stroking in a soothing motion that let him know that it was alright, that he could speak plainly with her.

'Is that what you meant? When you said about Rebecca, about her leaving?'

Charles sighed, shoulders sagging slightly whilst his hand tightened in hers. 'Yeah. It was a blow. She didn't tell me, _Sam_ did. He slipped it into conversation with all the innocence of a four-year old, told me all about Mummy's friend Will. Went on about how Will came and fixed his bike when it broke, how Will popped in for tea and always ended up staying for dinner. I knew who he was, we'd gone to school together-prep not boarding.'

She squeezed his hand affirmatively and assumed he meant primary school.

'Cut like a knife, hurt more than anything I'd ever been through in training, felt like the kickback when you fire your first round. I was shocked. Then pained. But I came to the realisation that it was just as much my fault as hers,' he sighed and Molly couldn't help but raising her eyebrows, it took a lot for a proud man like him, lovely and sensitive though he was with her, to admit that kind of liability.

'If I'd opened my eyes more, if I'd noticed the way things seemed to be going down the pan… she'd written me letters, sent emails. Sam cried for me at night and he loved me more, she'd said. Rebecca hated it, the hero worship Sam had for me, the way he'd tell his friends, teachers and anyone that would listen, about how his daddy was a hero. That resentment festered over the years, it was a build-up: she didn't have a job, was always the lone figure at dinner parties, never knew when I was coming back or if I would at all. A military wife wasn't what she'd wanted. She'd bargained on the nice house, the respectability, all the comfortable trimmings. But the nuts and bolts of being an army wife were never part of her plan, she said she hadn't signed up for a part time husband, part time father,' he whispered the last bit, as if shamed.

'Must've been hard, for both of you,' Molly sympathised, she'd seen so much on tour, yet she couldn't imagine the weight of all that guilt, all that responsibility, on his shoulders, on top of everything else he dealt with on tour.

'Yeah. It was. We tried counselling, but I had enough to deal with, last thing I wanted to do on leave was go spill my innermost thoughts to some stranger. Besides, we both realised there wasn't much to salvage anyway. I think I was in love with the idea of it, baby and a wife waiting for me at home. And she was in love with all of it except the army bit. But that was the problem: I _was_ the army and vice versa. It was my identity for _so_ long, Mol.'

'Was?' her heart lifted with something she knew to be hope. It felt fit to burst when she was with him, she could hear it in her ears sometimes, galloping like a racehorse, the same way it had in Afghan. But now, she didn't have to worry about getting herself blown up, rather her heart broken. It felt strange, she thought, having your heart in someone else's hands. And she couldn't say she didn't like the feeling, because she did, the more she surrendered herself to it. With him, it didn't feel so bad: giving in.

Charles turned to her now, squeezing her hand in affirmation. 'Yeah. Was. I know you might explain it away as shock or the influence of too much morphine,' he rolled his eyes when she laughed as he said this. 'But Molly, I meant what I said. Yes, it's all I've ever known, the thrill of it, the grit, the get up and go, it's all I ever wanted since, fuck, _forever_. But that's different now. Things have changed. _I've_ changed, thanks to a certain medic with a mouth that won't quit.'

'Oi. You can talk-,' she protested, to which he raised a finger and placed it over her lips, shutting her up good and proper. This wasn't a time for nonsense: she could spy the seriousness in his eyes.

'But it really is different. I want _you_, just you. I know that if we're together in this thing…life, I'll be alright, army or not. Whatever happens. The rest is just noise. I've never felt this way before, didn't think I could,' he said this quickly but with a certainty that revealed he'd been thinking long and hard. Charles knew that she thought he was getting ahead of himself, she'd told him that much at the restaurant, but it was the truth. It'd been all he'd been able to think of, from his time in the hospital bed till now, she occupied all the nooks and crannies of his heart, had filled in the cracks that his past had wrought.

For her part, Molly knew that being with him, officially, would raise eyebrows. Not just because they'd worked together, but because of their differences that appeared so big from the outside. Theoretically, they shouldn't fit. She recognised that she would have to get used to his language, one so foreign to her, one that spoke of prep schools and Eton and dances and _money_. But it was worth it, she thought, if she got to feel like this, his words and his smile warming her all over. He looked at her like she thought nobody ever would or could: she was rough and loud and opinionated. And like he said, her mouth had a mind of its own, as she'd been told often for so long.

But Molly could see in his eyes that he loved her, that he meant it, properly, and that he always would. Forever. And so, she decided that yeah, he was right, as long as they were together it would work out. Choked, her throat constricting with unexpected emotion, she deftly kissed the finger still resting against her lips. There was only one reply that fit:

'Ditto.'

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_There it is, hope it didn't disappoint. Look out for another update, hopefully by this time next week. Let me know what you think! XOX_


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